Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Nolan pulls the cell phone out of his pocket and gestures at the kitchen table. “Take a seat.”
I move quickly, and even though it hurts a lot, I sit down on the hard wooden chair.
“Tell her you’re okay,” Nolan orders before he hands me the phone.
Opening the message, my eyes dart greedily over the words.
Grace: I would’ve gone with you. Please be careful out there and check in regularly. I love you more than anything.
Grace.
Tears blur my vision, but I blink them away so I can see the screen.
Nolan watches as I type out a reply with trembling fingers, then he barks, “Don’t ask her that!”
“She’ll get suspicious if I don’t,” I whimper, desperate to communicate with my sister.
“Fine,” he relents with an annoyed glare directed at me.
Before he changes his mind, I press send and stare at the screen as the message goes through.
Ciara: I’m still okay. How are things at home?
She doesn’t reply immediately, and I worry that Nolan’s going to take the phone from me, but then it shows she’s typing, and I desperately read her text as it comes through.
Grace: I have everything under control. You can come home.
There’s nothing I want more than to go home to Grace.
My eyes fly to Nolan’s face, and he mutters, “Tell her you’re not ready.”
Ciara: I’m not ready to come home.
Grace: Just be careful and look after yourself. Let me know if you need anything.
I need you! God, I need you so much.
Ciara: I will. Did you get in trouble because I left?
Grace: No. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.
“That’s enough.” Nolan grabs the phone from me, and I can’t stop a sob from fluttering over my lips as I try to reach for the device.
“Just one minute more,” I beg.
Nolan shoves the phone into his pocket, and leaning over me, he grips my chin and growls, “Don’t make me regret letting you talk to Grace. I’ll destroy the phone.”
Not wanting him to do that, I clench my hands together on my lap.
He leans even closer. “Thank me, Ciara.”
My eyebrows draw together. “H-how?”
He tilts his head slightly while lowering his eyes to my mouth. “Kiss me.”
My chin quivers, but not wanting to miss any future chances I might have of talking to Grace, I close the inch between us and press a quick kiss to his lips.
A satisfied smile forms on his face, and he moves his hand to my cheek. “See, it’s not that hard. You’ll learn quickly.” Straightening up, he says, “Your breath stinks. Let’s brush your teeth and get you cleaned up.”
Cleaned up.
No.
My muscles lock in place, and Nolan has to yank me to my feet. The loving demeanor vanishes, and anger ripples over his features.
“Do I have to spank you again?”
I quickly shake my head, and when he pulls me toward the bathroom, it feels like a noose is being tightened around my neck.
My breaths keep coming faster and faster until they’re nothing but fear-filled puffs.
Nolan brings me to a halt in front of the sink, and letting go of me, he grabs a pink toothbrush and squirts toothpaste onto the bristles.
“Open your mouth wide,” he orders. A sob threatens to escape my throat as I do as I’m told, and I pinch my eyes shut. Nolan takes his time brushing my teeth, and when he’s pleased, he says, “Spit.” Once I’m done, he cups his hand beneath the cold water spray. “Rinse your mouth.”
Feeling utterly degraded, I’m beginning to realize Nolan is going to take every single thing from me, and I’m filled with an overwhelming sense of hopelessness.
He leaves me standing by the sink, and after he walks out of the bathroom, I wrap my arms around myself and suck in a desperate breath of air.
I’m still unable to process the hell I’m being subjected to. There’s no time to make sense of what’s happening, because before I can deal with whatever horrible act Nolan inflicts on me, something else happens. The weight of it all is bearing down on me.
Nolan returns with a yellow dress, and he places it on the closed toilet lid before moving past me to get to the bath. Dread spins in my stomach while I watch him fill the tub with water.
Once he’s satisfied with the temperature, he comes to me and takes hold of the dress, pulling it up my body. Where the fabric brushes over my butt and lower back, it burns, reminding me of the beating I got last night.
Unable to stop it, a sob escapes as I lift my arms so he can pull it over my head.
“Get in the tub,” he says, his tone gentle.
My movements are jerky as I do as I’m told, and when I sit down in the water, the skin on my lower back, butt, and the back of my thighs burn.